The course of true love never did run smooth...
Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel,
“I am the Lord your God, who teaches you to profit,
Who leads you in the way you should go.
If only you had paid attention to My commandments!
Then your well-being would have been like a river,
And your righteousness like the waves of the sea.” [Isaiah 48:16-18]
“I am the Lord your God, who teaches you to profit,
Who leads you in the way you should go.
If only you had paid attention to My commandments!
Then your well-being would have been like a river,
And your righteousness like the waves of the sea.” [Isaiah 48:16-18]
Being a teacher is an emotionally intense experience. And teaching cross-culturally makes it doubly hard. It is difficult enough to correctly discern motives and to motivate young people towards positive change, from within the same culture. Trying to do so in a different culture is often daunting and frustrating.
The experience has however given me glimpses of how God must feel about His wayward children. Scripture affirms that God is truly good and that all His thoughts and purposes towards His own are holy and righteousness. He wills to do good to those who are called by His name. There has never been, and never will be any intention to do any harm to us.
To a certain degree, that’s how I feel towards my Timorese students as well. All my energies are focused towards bringing good into their lives. All my motivations towards them are good (though being human, corruption of what is good can often sneak in). All my resources, both material and emotional, are channeled towards what I feel is good for them. I wrack my brains to think of ways of doing good towards them, and teaching them to be good.
In wanting them to pay for the course, I want to cultivate commitment and ownership. In telling them Aesop’s Fables, I hope to teach sound values that will give them the foundation for honest living. In creating worksheets that are culturally interesting, I hope to spark in them the desire to learn continually.
Yet I am often thwarted in these sincere attempts to show love and care. Some lie about financial difficulty so that they don’t have to pay for the course. Others seem happy to sit in the class but not study or do their homework. And on a bad day, I feel genuinely wounded by this small handful that chooses to respond to my love with apathy or defiance.
In the midst of grappling with my sense of woundedness, I feel as though I am experiencing in a small way how grieved God must feel over His children – myself included - who choose to respond to true love with disobedience or impure motives. I am saddened when students relate to us hoping for freebies from the foreigner. Yet I am often guilty of doing the same to God – relating to Him in order to get a prayer answered. I feel taken for granted when my students show up for classes only when convenient, or if they happen to suddenly remember that the class is on. Yet I often do the same to God, relegating Him to the backseat and only calling on Him when it suits my desires.
Oswald Chambers once wrote that God has a way of bringing people into our lives to show us the sort of person we have been towards Him. Lately, I have been reminded of these words as I struggle with ministering to my students. What they do unto me, I have often done unto God. That thought has a way of putting things back into perspective. We are all sinners in desperate, desperate need for God’s grace.
The experience has however given me glimpses of how God must feel about His wayward children. Scripture affirms that God is truly good and that all His thoughts and purposes towards His own are holy and righteousness. He wills to do good to those who are called by His name. There has never been, and never will be any intention to do any harm to us.
To a certain degree, that’s how I feel towards my Timorese students as well. All my energies are focused towards bringing good into their lives. All my motivations towards them are good (though being human, corruption of what is good can often sneak in). All my resources, both material and emotional, are channeled towards what I feel is good for them. I wrack my brains to think of ways of doing good towards them, and teaching them to be good.
In wanting them to pay for the course, I want to cultivate commitment and ownership. In telling them Aesop’s Fables, I hope to teach sound values that will give them the foundation for honest living. In creating worksheets that are culturally interesting, I hope to spark in them the desire to learn continually.
Yet I am often thwarted in these sincere attempts to show love and care. Some lie about financial difficulty so that they don’t have to pay for the course. Others seem happy to sit in the class but not study or do their homework. And on a bad day, I feel genuinely wounded by this small handful that chooses to respond to my love with apathy or defiance.
In the midst of grappling with my sense of woundedness, I feel as though I am experiencing in a small way how grieved God must feel over His children – myself included - who choose to respond to true love with disobedience or impure motives. I am saddened when students relate to us hoping for freebies from the foreigner. Yet I am often guilty of doing the same to God – relating to Him in order to get a prayer answered. I feel taken for granted when my students show up for classes only when convenient, or if they happen to suddenly remember that the class is on. Yet I often do the same to God, relegating Him to the backseat and only calling on Him when it suits my desires.
Oswald Chambers once wrote that God has a way of bringing people into our lives to show us the sort of person we have been towards Him. Lately, I have been reminded of these words as I struggle with ministering to my students. What they do unto me, I have often done unto God. That thought has a way of putting things back into perspective. We are all sinners in desperate, desperate need for God’s grace.
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